thinking about. You don't care a d---- about the craft, and if you could
only get the power from us old ones, you would run her on the first
islet you came to, so that you might plunder her of the whisky. But
there will be none of that, my young whelp! Here we shall lie, as long
as I choose.'

When this decision reached the forecastle, it awoke great indignation
among the young and immature, which, indeed, was only to be expected.
But even the skipper's friends and admirers shook their heads, and
opined that it was a nasty answer; after all, it was only a civil
question, which ought not to compromise anybody.

There now arose a growing ill-humour--something quite unheard-of among
these peaceable fellows. Even the skipper, who was not usually quick to
understand or remark anything, thought he saw many sullen faces, and he
was no longer so well pleased with the bearing of the crew when he
stepped out upon deck with his genial 'Good-morning, you rogues.'

But the steersman had long scented something, for he had a fine nose and
long ears. Therefore, a couple of evenings after the young man's
unfortunate visit, it was remarked that something extraordinary was
brewing aft.

The cabin-boy had to make three journeys with the toddy-kettle, and the
report he gave in the forecastle after his last trip was indeed
disquieting.

The steersman seemed to have talked without intermission for two hours;
before them on the table lay barometer, chronometer, sextant, journal,
and half the ship's library. This consisted of Kingo's hymn-book and an